A Life Worth Living?
by bobdabuilder0804
Summary: Post Season 3. Jack and an addiction. Michelle tries to help. Sorta sad. R and R please! Now COMPLETE
1. Default Chapter

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A Life Worth Living?

5 weeks. It had lasted 5 whole weeks. It wasn't as long as he had expected, but it still felt like an eternity. As soon as they had sent him away he knew it wouldn't last, he wouldn't stay on the tracks. How could he? When his mind was clear he could think, he could see the world for what it was and feel the guilt clawing at him. The guilt of not doing more to make the world a better place, for failing in what he had set out to do a long time ago. But most painfully of all, his conscience bit at him for no longer caring.

There comes a time when you can simply do no more. Jack knew he had passed that time and place long ago, and there was no going back. After he took the Salazar's down he was beat; he'd had enough of the fight against terror. But still he'd fought on, to prevent a deadly outbreak, to save lives. He didn't like to admit it, but at time he often wondered if the lives were worth saving.

The people would never know what he had done for them, never appreciate his sacrifice. They would go on living life, complaining about the government which did so much to protect them. Was it worth it?

When he was thinking straight he had to deal with the voices which would question the worth of his sacrifice, and that scared him. He wasn't supposed to ask such questions, he was supposed to act and not think, be detached. Only he didn't want to be detached anymore. When he was high the voices never came, he didn't have to think about his guilt, he didn't have to convince himself he should care. He didn't have to do anything.

Why should he pretend to be something he wasn't, he wondered? Rehab had been hellish, and then only thing that got him through it was the knowledge that he would never have to do it again. And of course, knowing that the next hit would be so much sweeter and last so much longer due to the wait. The fog would be thicker than ever.

CTU wasn't for him anymore, but then nothing was. He had started up the pretence of wanting to work when he had returned. Why not, the rehab had to have been for something, and if he didn't work, didn't feel the guilt or pain of this world the drugs wouldn't provide such satisfactory escapism. Each mans freedom has its price and he was willing to pay it.

He had shot up at home, that very first time after being clean. He had rode the waves of ecstasy in a comatose state, not wanting to come round, he wanted to dream forever. But eventually he did and like a hangover from alcohol, he felt the itch beneath his skin, the needle calls quickly. He fulfilled it too, and soon was on a tighter rota with the junk than ever before.

He was coming around from his last hit one morning when he realised he would have problems concerning CTU. He wanted to work there to make the hits worthwhile, but the weekly drug tests would reveal his secret immediately. He had been confused as the thoughts had sluggishly filtered through his mind, it was a no win situation.

The answer had hit him moments later and made him giggle like a little child at the circus. Why do the drug test at all? Why submit himself to explanations and excuses for his habit, his friend? He wouldn't, he didn't want to hide away, he didn't want to feel the self hatred he used to feel as the needle slid into his vein. The hits would always be worthwhile as he would always be plagued with guilt and pain. He should freely enjoy the only thing he could trust, the only thing which would stand by his side no matter how hard things got. Surely he deserved that?

He had packed up the few things needed with a grin on his face as he fought through the clouds of the drug. Why live a life not worth living, why live a lie? He should go, run away from LA and the shadows that followed him. Why stay? There was no answer worth giving, he had nothing here. Nobody could save him, and he didn't care. He wanted to embrace the darkness that lay ahead. It was all he needed, and in truth, all he deserved.

He had planned to run, just drive away but now he realised even that wasn't necessary. He was alone, he wouldn't be bothered by anybody. They could take his God damn car for all they cared, he'd already removed his hidden stash from underneath the drivers seat so it wasn't needed. Everything he needed was right there with him. A few clean syringes, a big case of his friend and a lock on the door. He wouldn't be disturbed as he ran towards an eternity of ecstasy.

Kim would never know, hell, he wasn't even certain of her location right now. CTU would worry when he didn't turn up, but even that didn't matter. He could email them his resignation and he would never have to speak to another agent again. They couldn't make him come back, he thought with satisfaction, he would never go back there.

It was the thing which had killed him inside, but still presented quite a paradox. CTU had took his wife away, ruined him, taken him to places he never wanted to see. But by destroying his humanity it had given him the only thing he could live for, the only thing worth living for. Heroin. He couldn't condemn it for that.

Given the choice, of course he would give up the drug to have his wife back, and a loving daughter. But it wasn't going to happen. Heroin was the only thing which could give him peaceful dreams of his family from another time, another world almost.

He had learnt long ago that things aren't always as they seem, to look for some hidden agenda. But now alone, nothing but himself and a needle, nothing was concealed. He had everything he wanted, everything he had lost. Heroin could reproduce the happiest moments of his life, and the bad ones, the dark ones were never seen. He would live and die in bliss.

Life meant nothing to him, but with the drug it was everything. It was the only thing he wanted, and in truth, it was the only thing he had left. It wouldn't desert him when the times got hard, and it wouldn't betray him. It would kill him eventually, but what did that matter, when he had no life to live without it?

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	2. Chapter 2: Welcome to my Life

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Welcome to My Life.

He was anticipating the sharp sting of the point as it penetrated his skin, the needle was carefully poised over his vein as he calmed himself to prevent the shaking in his hands. He liked to wait, just for a second or two, before he slid the needle in and pushed the plunger down easily with him thumb. The anticipation made him grow excited, reminding himself that there was something worth living for, ecstasy wasn't hard to sell to himself, especially when he was merely seconds away from the freedom of his conscience.

He savoured the sharp sting he felt as he pushed the instrument further into his arm, reminding himself of the philosopher Mills words, we value pain as it makes us more appreciative of the pleasure. Screw Bentham, he thought, he liked Mills theory better, its not quantity it's the quality. And heroin, he had realised, was the strongest and most fulfilling kind of pleasure he would ever receive. To be a Utilitarian, he thought, laughing at the contradiction he presented.

The concept was based on pleasure, quantity or quality, he was sure he himself was a very good demonstration of how you were not supposed to behave. Then again, he thought, perhaps Bentham knew what he was talking about after all. He wasn't concerned with minorities of injustice. Okay so he wasn't exactly giving lots of people pleasure, only himself, but he was sure he could overlook that detail.

Jack Bauer the Utilitarian, he thought mockingly, who would have thought? All of his adult life he had worked for Bentham's Principle of Utility, greatest happiness for the greatest number. People were sacrificed to save the greater number of people, Bentham would have approved. But he never felt he had achieved the principle, the crux of his theory. Until now, when he was, technically going against both theories.

Screw it, he thought, what did Kant say about pleasure? His wondering thoughts were ended as he realised he was still holding the needles prick under his skin, ready to give himself all the pleasure he needed. Who cares about Bentham or Mill, he thought, as long as he was happy and wasn't hurting anybody else, what did it matter? He'd never been selfish before and something told himself he deserved to be indulgent and greedy, he didn't realise that it was only the high and the drugs which made him feel this way, but what did it matter?

He closed his eyes and reopened them as he tried to focus, it wasn't often his thoughts were so jumbled during the process, normally the drug would talk him through it, but today it was his mind. He didn't like it when his mind spoke to him, sometimes the guilt slipped through the hidden door and ruined his high. The drugs didn't make him less depressed, he had to be in a good frame of mind when he took them, he had to want them. It wasn't usually a problem, he always wanted them.

He was about to push the plunger down, the third time that very day, when he herd the sound of shoes on the concrete outside. He panicked quickly and pulled the needle out, carefully laying it down on its side before throwing the band from his arm. He didn't want a visitor, he should have known it would be too easy. He had sent his resignation to CTU that very morning, three days after he had realised how he could be free of the world, free of himself.

He cursed himself, he should have known they would be suspicious, maybe he should have called in and spoke to Erin, Tony's replacement, and spun some lie about wanting a change. They wouldn't have sent anybody over to see him then, he thought, thank God he hadn't shot up. Whoever they sent would leave and back him up after hearing his lies, lies he wouldn't be able to tell while high. Also, he thought worriedly, they high would have been ruined, and that would have been bad, he thought. He cast another glance at the syringe as he darted over to the window, wondering if he really did have a visitor or if it was paranoia.

A harsh knock at the door told him it was reality, time to live in the real world for a while, he realised angrily. He moved the grubby netting back and peered through the dusty window, it was raining, he couldn't make out the figure at the door. When had it last rained in LA, he wondered? He didn't like the rain. He watched it patter over the window for a moment almost mesmerised, thinking back to his childhood, listening to Father Andy stood at the front of the church, boring Jack and all of the other children who had been dragged to church to sleep.

He had told them that when it rained God was washing away sin, and when the sun came out afterwards, He was showing us his forgiveness, granting us salvation for his sins. He suddenly remembered why he disliked the rains so much, he didn't deserve to be forgiven for his sins. He pushed the netting back as he realised the person was still stood at the door. He reluctantly moved to answer it knowing it would be would easier to get CTU off of his back as soon as possible. He didn't like it though, he was annoyed. He closed the room door as he moved down the hallway. The drugs were out of sight to the stranger but the image of them was fixed in his mind.

There was no peep hole on his door so he swung it open, shocking his visitor as it slammed against the wall before he held it still, a frown on his face, he wanted them to know he was mad about being bothered. He had sent them his resignation, why should they need to see him? The figure in the doorway jumped slightly startled, certainly not expecting him to answer.

He glared at the figure hidden underneath an umbrella, not able to make out the face. He thought about inviting them in from the cold then decided against it, he wanted to be as rude as possible so they wouldn't come back.

"Jack its freezing out here, do you treat all of your guests this way?"

Jack almost jumped when he herd the voice before moving away to let his guest in, instantly feeling guilty for how rude he had been, but angry too. Angry at CTU for sending her to see him, did they think he would come back if they sent a friend around? Well I'm not, he thought stubbornly, I'm not going back for anything. I have something much better waiting here for me…

She closed the door behind herself after leaving the soaked umbrella on the door mat outside, no point in getting his place wet. She looked up at him expectantly, not entirely sure why she had come to see him. The look on his face told he she thought she was here for a reason.

Michelle opened her mouth speak but Jack spoke over her, his voice harsh and angry.

"You can tell Erin not to bother sending anybody over, I'm through with CTU."

Michelle looked into his eyes, saw the glare he had, was it meant for her? She suggested they sit down and she followed him into the kitchen, she couldn't see the living room, she would tell on him and then everything would be ruined.

"Jack I didn't come here as Erin's messenger. I came to see you."

He was fiddling with his hands, looking around the room, clearly he couldn't focus on what she was saying; he seemed preoccupied.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"No… no, sorry," he said, realising he hadn't been paying attention. Focus Bauer, he told himself. Was it him or the drug telling him to focus, as both knew what would happen if he didn't?

Michelle looked at him curiously, why was wrong with him? A dark thought crossed her mind but she pushed it away, no way, she thought, Jack was over the drugs.

"So, you left CTU?"

"Yes." It was a growl, he was ready to defend himself. This wasn't like him, she thought as she watched him shift on the pine chair at the breakfast table.

"So did I," she sighed.

His eyebrows curved in shock and intrigue, "you did?"

"Yes. They put me on emotional leave anyway, I resigned last week."

"Well that makes two of us then," he smirked. Part of him felt a little dejected that CTU hadn't contacted him. He had been angry before but… He felt rejected by them all of a sudden. Why hadn't they called to clarify his resignation, were they that eager to get rid of him?

"Jack I didn't come over here to wallow in my sorrows," she said slightly angry at his remark, he hadn't even asked how she was holding up, or about Tony either.

"Well what do you want Michelle?" He asked, sighing in annoyance. Didn't she realise he had more important things to be doing?

"I came to speak to you about Tony."

His face dropped, for a second he looked upset, helpless. But it was gone in a flash and the bored expression was back.

"What about him?"

"I want your help Jack…" She said, almost starting to cry, and mad at herself for doing so.

"Michelle how can I possible help. I did everything I could for him."

She started to interrupt but he spoke over her, she had clearly hit a nerve.

"You were at the trial, you saw me on the witness stand, getting ripped apart by that lawyer who couldn't have been any older than Kim. I told you personally that my presence would hurt his case, but you made me go Michelle. You saw the state of me, I wasn't even clean but you wanted me there. I used to feel guilty for Tony's sentence, but I don't. I did everything I could, and if my testimony hurt him, well… the only person to blame for that is you."

He stared at her as he spoke, he wanted to hurt her, she was sure of it. When the tear slid down her cheek he scoffed and looked away as though he was irritated with her show of emotion. Why did he want to hurt her? She'd never herd him be so selfish before.

"I need him Jack," she whispered, "Isn't there anything you can do?" She looked up at him, she looked so vulnerable, he thought. But he couldn't let her see his sympathy for her, he couldn't let her know he was sorry for hurting her. He couldn't confess to the lie he had just created, he did feel sorry for Tony, he felt terrible about it.

People deserve what they get Jack, the heroin spoke to him, just like you deserve what you get. He cursed out loud as he felt the guilt creep in, he was sick of it, all of it.

"We can't always have what we want Michelle." He stated as he abruptly moved from the table over to the sink, looking out of the window. "In fact, I don't think we ever get what we want in this life," he paused as something in the garden caught his eye, it was still raining, "in the shadow world…" he muttered under his breath.

"This isn't like you Jack," she said moving over to him, "why are you trying to hurt me? I thought we were friends Jack, is this how little you value me, that you mock me for wanting my husband back, the man who saved my life?"

Jack spun around to face her. He desperately wanted to tell her he was sorry, but the heroin spoke again in his mind, she deserves to be hurt, everyone does. Why should he suffer alone?

"I called Palmer, I did everything in my power to get him to grant Tony a pardon before he leaves office. He wouldn't budge, Michelle, and he wont take my calls. He told me that he can't interfere with the law, and that justice must be served."

"Is this justice Jack, do you think this is fair?"

He looked at her and looked away. How could he explain the mess his head was in, if he couldn't sift through the chaos that was his mind, then how could she possible understand?

"Nothings fair," he muttered as her sobs got heavier. He moved over and put his arm around her.

He was surprised when she hugged him tightly, crying into his shoulder. He hadn't had any physical contact since that day, he didn't think anybody could stand to be near him. He felt selfish now, he realised, and as much as he wanted to leave her and go shoot up, he couldn't. He had done this to her, to hide away his real feelings. To protect himself, he realised.

Let her deal with her own problems, the voice spoke again in the back of his mind. But he couldn't let her go, somebody needed him, something other than the drug actually needed him; he never thought he could feel this way again, but he did.


	3. Chapter 3

Michelle's sobs subsided shortly after they started, but she continued to cling onto Jack. Something had changed in the atmosphere, she could sense it as she could feel it. Jack had held her with hesitation, then suddenly she realised she didn't need the contact but he did. His grip had tightened and didn't let go, even when Michelle had clearly gotten hold of her emotions.

The realisation upset her, that all it had taken was human contact to make him think differently. How could he have ended up here, she thought, as she stood deadly still in his embrace, not daring to move away until he was ready. She sniffed again before whispering the word, "sorry." If he had heard her he didn't react. As her hands bunched the back of his shirt tighter she suddenly felt guilty for coming here, hoping he could fix her problems, when he was clearly broken himself. Closing her eyes she started rocking back and forth on her feet hoping to give him some kind of comfort, knowing that he needed her as much as she needed him.

Eventually Michelle stopped moving and Jack instantly moved away, feeling embarrassed when he instantly missed the contact, and annoyed that he had let his defences down. Michelle had been upset, he told himself, she needed his help, that's all it was. But the lie wouldn't be bought too easily, and deep down he knew he had needed it too.

But what now? Tony would still be in jail and she'd have to deal with it as best as she could. He would continue to be alone and so, he decided, would naturally shoot up some more to keep himself company. He rubbed his tongue along his teeth as he thought about the drugs displayed openly in the living room.

"Maybe you should go, Michelle, this isn't helping either of us." She knew he was lying, his voice cracked as he spoke. He wanted her to stay, wanted to pour his soul out for her to see, maybe confession could end the visions which haunted him. Heroin was the only release he could find, but it wasn't enough. When he saw Michelle watching him with pity in her eyes, he felt it reflect in his own. What was wrong with him, why was he feeling like this when he didn't deserve to feel anything?

Michelle said nothing, she stood motionless as she watched the conflict play out in his eyes. Sinking down into a chair at the table Jack held his head in his hands, hoping she wouldn't be able to see his thoughts this way. His eyes welled with tears, where had this come from?

He'd happily resigned from CTU knowing he was going to stay at home and get high until one day he rode a wave too high and overdosed. He knew the ghosts would never stop chasing him so why was he now questioning the temporary protection the heroin provided him? He didn't deserve to hide, to forget, so why did he feel so helpless when this dawned on him? Was he really so selfish to want something more than the life he resigned himself to? More importantly, he wondered, why did his defences and drugged ideology suddenly crumble after Michelle arrived? She didn't need him, she didn't want him, so what had changed?

Was he that lonely?

Rubbing a hand through his hair he felt nauseas, if the heroin was so good to him why did he feel some sort of hope at the thought of somebody coming to see him? Getting angry with himself he stood up again and started pacing the small room, aware of the eyes following his every move. Why was he wanting more than the drug, why was he suddenly hoping for anything from this life? He didn't deserve life, he didn't deserve death, and he certainly didn't deserve comfort.

Comfort.

Is that what the heroin provided? He used to think so, but if that was so then he didn't deserve that either. He did submit to it, he fixed when he needed to fix, floated when it demanded he float… the drug controlled him. It offered him numbness, which he couldn't deny was a comfort, but, he reasoned, if he'd never taken that first hit, he wouldn't be hooked. Slamming his fist down on the counter Jack realised he wasn't comforted by the drug anymore, he was trapped.

Michelle flinched as Jack struck out but said nothing, somehow it made Jack feel worse, so he started talking, anything to get rid of her and the images and realisations his mind had conjured up since her arrival.

"I can't do anything, we both know that. Tony's going to have to serve his sentence."

The topic surprised Michelle, but then she felt the familiar burst of pain in her head at the thought of her husband in prison, because of her, and was knocked off guard for a moment. Jack was blatantly staring at her, and Michelle instantly realised what he was trying to do, lead her off of the track, distract her from other matters - his matters. It wasn't going to work. Then again, she thought as she felt herself begin to tear once more, maybe she would.

"I know," she whispered, looking down to hide the forming tears. Somehow the fact that she'd been sobbing in his arms minutes earlier didn't register. Something about being helpless before him felt wrong, not when he clearly needed help too. She couldn't do that do him.

"Then why come here," he asked, his exhaustion shining through his voice as he held his hands out to emphasise his point.

"I had to," she replied feebly, "I wanted to."

Shaking his head Jack tried to block out her words, "I can't help you," he said bluntly.

Whispering Michelle took another step forward, "then let me help you."


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4.

The room was suddenly silent. Michelle stared at Jack expectantly for some sort of response, he looked down at the floor as he refused to meet her eyes. Was he that obvious? Could she see through him so easily, he wondered? He slowly raised his eyes to meet hers, she was on the verge of tears again.

"Help with what?" He asked testily, his voice cold as he realised he had opened up too much to her. He had to shut her out again so she would leave and forget about him, then he would be alone again with the heroin.

Michelle shook her head slightly as she wondered how to respond to his question. She knew he was hiding something, and clearly hurting. She was scared to accuse him of doing drugs again in case she was wrong and hurt his feelings, but something told her she was not wrong.

"Don't underestimate me Jack, I'm not stupid," she replied coolly, a small smirk on her face. "We both know that you're hurting just as much as I am."

"Michelle, I know you're upset about Tony," he said, trying again, to create a diversion, "but there's nothing I can do about-"

"This isn't about Tony!" She snapped. A slightly startled expression spread over Jacks face, and so she continued, "I came here to talk about him, yes, but its clear to me that you have other things on your mind!"

Jack said nothing, Michelle started to get frustrated but knew it would do no good. Causing an argument wouldn't help either of them.

"You and Tony are good friends Jack, or at least you were. You trusted him enough to do the sting op with him, you cared enough to go to trial for him in the condition you were-"

"You made me go," he said, quietly interrupting her. Michelle started to laugh.

"Since when has anybody been able to make you do anything you didn't want to?"

Jack smiled a little at her words, before adding, "you know what I mean," as he sat back down at the table. He was suddenly very tired.

"No Jack," she said softly, "I don't."

The silence came back, both too hesitant to break it.

"You left CTU," Michelle blurted, breaking the awkward moment, "why?"

The question caught him off guard, he didn't know how to answer it. Finally, he went with the truth, "I had other things to do."

"What things Jack," she asked, inching her chair around the table so it was closer to him. He could see the compassion in her eyes, he didn't know how to receive it. Should he feel grateful that he did have a friend who cared for him, or should he be angry with the pity she felt? The discussion had been heated earlier, but it was calm now, and the calmness allowed the call of the drug to start up again, like a gently tugging reminder inside.

He rubbed a hand over his face, he could feel his skin getting clammy. Although the drug brought him a necessary freedom, he didn't like the sudden restraint it was creating. After rehab he knew what to expect, but he was certain he'd never feel the pains of withdrawal again, knowing he'd shoot up before they could start. Michelle's visit was unexpected and so was the pain. He didn't like it, this wasn't freedom.

He realised Michelle was still waiting for an answer. He leaned over slightly so his elbows were resting on the table as he spoke, "You know what things," he croaked, his voice tense as it anticipated what was to come.

"I do?" She asked gently, resting a hand on his arm, not wanting to hurt him, but she was certain their conversation had.

"Yes," he whispered, as tears began we well in each of their eyes, Jack quickly raised a hand to cover them, which upset Michelle even more.

"How long Jack?" Jack noted the even tone of her voice, it held no judgement or pity, somehow this alone gave him comfort.

"Since I got back," he said, sniffing once or twice as he fought for control over himself - he wouldn't allow himself to cry in her presence; but he wouldn't lie to her either. He was sick of the lies, when he was first addicted, hiding it from CTU, then in rehab, and now. He'd been lying to himself throughout all of it, he was sick of it all.

"Oh Jack," Michelle said, her voice full of pain, "why do this to yourself," she asked, shaking her head in disbelief that he had already fallen down again.

"You can't understand," he said, his voice raw with emotion, "nobody understands… not even me."

He covered his eyes again as his body started to shake, this was getting too much, he was losing all control. Michelle put her arm around him in a weak attempt to hold him but he quickly shrugged her off. He stood up from the chair, it scraped along the floor causing a screeching noise but he didn't hear it.

"Jack…" She asked, watching him with concern as he ran cold water from the tap at the sink, before washing his face with it.

He didn't answer, he proceeded to grab a small towel and dry himself off as Michelle watched him silently, almost frozen in place. How could she help him, when he couldn't help himself? She felt out of her league, but she knew she couldn't leave now. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if she did.

"Jack, do you want to be like this?"

"Like what?" He snapped, suddenly defensive again. The drug was calling louder to him, somehow it strengthened his defences.

"You need a fix! Do you want to live your life this way, giving in to a drug; don't forget that this is a result of CTU," she added. She knew she had started on something when she mentioned CTU, he paled slightly.

"I made the decision, Michelle," he said quietly, Michelle decided not to pursue the topic any further. "So what now," she asked, "you go shoot up, pass out for the night, wake up tomorrow and start all over again?"

Jack said nothing, he concentrated on folding the towel up neatly before messing it up again to wipe the sweat from his face.

"Its hard Michelle, okay? Its too hard for you to understand why I'm doing this - just because you're here now you think I should quit, and maybe I agree. But its not that easy, I'll be alone again tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, and then I think why not? I've got nothing else going on! Its not like I have anybody or anything worth quitting for Michelle, so please don't think you can 'save me' because I've already thought it through, and there's nothing worth saving…"

He broke off as a stomach cramp hit him, taking him by surprise, he squeezed the towel strongly until it passed. "Look at yourself Jack," Michelle said softly, "I understand why you think what you do, but it wont always be this way…can you honestly tell me that this is what you are now, or who you want to be? Because I don't think you do…"

Shaking his head Jack tossed the towel onto the side. "That's the problem Michelle," he said quietly as he again rubbed at his eyes from tiredness, "I don't know what I want… Right now it feels as though I have no choice."

Michelle moved over to him and grabbed both of his hands in hers, forcing him to look at her, making him accept the contact. "You always have a choice," she whispered, staring him in the eyes as she nodded her head, "always."

-

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	5. Chapter 5

Jack began to pace the room. His inner turmoil was beginning to agitate him. Michelle was seated patiently, waiting for him to speak, and he was wiling to admit that her presence was a comfort. But his stomach ached and his temperature was rising. With Michelle he saw comfort, albeit temporary, but the drugs would offer him numbness. His head was a mess, he sat down again, feeling weaker than ever. 

"I'm sorry about Tony," he said softly.

Michelle nodded her head. "I'll work something out, I'm not giving up on him."

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to do more. Maybe if I'd been better, during the trial, I could have helped, instead of screwing up so much."

"That wasn't your fault. Both you and my legal team advised me your presence wouldn't help. I just wasn't willing to listen to any advice. I guess I thought you could fix things, it was stupid of me, really."

Jack said nothing more. She was right, it was wrong of her to think he could automatically fix things. He had failed Tony. He had failed himself, again.

"Michelle, I think you better leave now." 

Michelle stared at him, her eyes curious, concerned, worried. "I'm not leaving you Jack, not now. Do you need to shoot up?" 

Jack looked down at his hands but Michelle could sense the shame radiating from him as he slowly nodded his head. In defeat or acceptance she wasn't sure, but he didn't seem as resigned to his fate as he had earlier. Maybe she had made him re-evaluate his things, she hoped so.

"Don't do this."

Jack smiled sadly. "Right now, I don't have any choice. I have to get high. It's only gonna get worse if I wait."

"I'm not talking about your next shot, I mean the addiction in general." 

Jack cocked his head to one side, quizzical. "I can't just snap my fingers and be clean, it takes time, too much damn time."

"You went about rehab all wrong," she blurted out. "Things were a mess at CTU, you were sent away, it wasn't right. You need people to help you, during the process, and afterwards."

"I don't want any help."

"You need help."

Jack smiled. "Maybe I do, but I that doesn't mean I want it. I made this bed, and so I have to lie in it. I started shooting up again, nobody else made the decision for me. It's not right that I drag others through this. Besides," he added bitterly, "I have nobody."

"You have me."

"No offence Michelle, we're friends and all, but I'm not sure-" 

"You're lonely Jack. Kim's gone who knows where, and you have nothing left. You shut your friends out, but I'm not just stepping aside to watch you waste away."

Jack's patience was wearing thin. "And then what? What happens when I'm clean, and something goes wrong? Do I come running back to you to hold my hand? It wont work Michelle."

"What happens when something goes wrong now, and you get too high, and never come back down?"

Jack just stared at her, offering no response, and Michelle gasped. "Do you want to die? Jesus… Jack, are you suicidal?"

"I don't deserve to die," he spat, "and no, I'm not suicidal, I'm an addict, and right now, I really need to tend to my addiction. Please leave."

"I'm going nowhere."

"Then please excuse me."

Jack headed to the living room, and closed the door behind him, through Michelle hadn't left the kitchen table, she was resting her head in her hands against the wood. Jack picked up the drugs from where he had left off before he was disturbed and quickly fixed. His hands shook and he realised he had left it way too long. He closed his eyes as the familiar warmth spread through him, but no numbness joined the warmth today, no relief, no joy just pain, disgust; not at the drug itself but how low he was to actually deserve this filth.

He heard a soft tap against the door but ignored it. Michelle slowly pushed into the room, packed up the heroin kit left on display over the coffee table and pushed it to one side. She leaned down before Jack, on her knees so they were the same height.

"Now gonna throw my stash, are you?" His voice slurred.

"No," Michelle said sadly, "that's your job, I can't make this decision for you. But I can be here for you."

Jack heard a sniffle and opened his eyes to see her perched before him, tears in her eyes. He looked away and she placed her hands on his knees softly. "Oh Jack," she whispered, before a tear fell from his own eyes and they misted over.

"I'm sorry" he muttered, and she got up and seated herself besides him, leant towards him and gently placed her arms around him.

"You don't have to apologise for any of this." She felt herself start to cry, for the first time since her husbands arrest the tears were for someone else. 

"I'm so sorry," Jack said, and he felt his face moisten from his own tears.

"I'm so sorry too," she whispered as she held him tighter, feeling him lean in towards her touch. 

"It's gonna be okay," she said.

"I don't want to be like this," Jack whispered, after a slight sob escaped him, "I can't help it."

"It's going to be okay," she said, "I can help you. I want to help you. You can beat this." 

Jack reached his arms out and returned the hug, his hands clinging to her shoulders.

"Thank you," he said, "thank you."

He drifted away shortly afterwards, his body went slack but Michelle didn't let go of him, instead she continued to whisper assurance in the unconscious ear.

"You're going to get through this, you're not alone anymore."

The End.


End file.
